


Unbroken

by DisneyChick2020



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Suicide Attempt, Young Cassandra - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisneyChick2020/pseuds/DisneyChick2020
Summary: This story is inspired by Stan Walker’s song Unbroken.Early on in Stan’s career on The Royal Guard, he was quite lonely as he had not been able to bond much with his co-workers. That is until the day he comes across a man who was very down on his luck, he gives him a hand and changes his life for the better.There will also be a glimpse of pre-teen Cass as she works on basic guard training with the guys while her dad is away searching for the Lost Princess.
Relationships: Pete the Guard/Stan the Guard (Disney: Tangled), Pete the Guard/Stan the Guard/Stan the Guard's Wife (Disney: Tangled)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 5





	1. Stand By You

Stan stood silently in the middle of the road and watched coldly as Joseph Cain was shoved into a wagon and carted off to the dungeons for shoplifting. Poverty was rife in the 'Sunshine Kingdom,' King Frederic had shot the taxes up sky high as if all the money in the world could bring back his baby girl. Once they were gone Stan moved on to the baker's to get a bite to eat, most of the guys had a packed lunch made by their missus to eat in the servent's quarters, bit of banter and chat. He had never made any friends with his co-workers despite being on the Royal Guard for two years, so it was quite a lonely experience. He spotted a figure in an alleyway, assuming this person was another petty thief he charged over to him. Much to his surprise, this man had no kind of jewellery or food, just a long rope.

Pete was extremely thin, the face was skeletal, pale skin, messy brown hair and a long moustache that did not suit him, but his looks were the least of his worries. He was just a little bit younger than him and was such a troubled soul; his grey eyes were bloodshot from spending so much time crying; he had a few freckles. There were nasty looking scratches and cuts on his arms, his tunic and trousers were filthy, his boots knackered, the sole flapped at the front. He remembered this guy, Peter, the young homeless guy sitting on his own in the rain, he had taken him into a cafe and given him a ham sandwich. It was not until Stan had seen him tie one end of the rope into a loop, it then clicked just what he was going to do.

He sighed and knelt beside him. "Peter, please don't do this to yourself." 

Pete groaned and looked at him with a tired expression. "Might as well, I don't have anything to live for, no home, no job... No family, nothing, ever since I was a kid I've been unloved, and unwanted not even my dad wanted me, why do you care if I die anyway?" 

Stan sighed again and looked back at him. “I want to be friends... It's me, Stan, remember?" 

Pete scoffed. "How can a Royal Guard and a low life street rat be friends?" 

Stan shrugged. "I don't see why not, you haven't committed any crimes; I know you would instead scavenge through the garbage than steal from the grocer's.” 

Pete let out a fake laugh. “You’re a lot softer than the other guys, being friends with you isn’t going to solve my problems. I’ve never been able to hold down a job for longer than a month; I got fired because I was late. I got hungover and hooked on potions.” 

Stan sighed. “Hey, we all screw up sometimes... Just put the rope away and come with me.” 

“Where?” Pete looked at him warily; he was still unsure if he could trust him. 

“There’s a little place where my friend Lily works she’s an excellent cook, get a decent meal in you then I can you can stay at my home.” 

Pete blinked, his jaw dropped slightly. “Y-Your home? Are you sure about that? I’m a stranger to you.” 

Stan shrugged and put on a small smile. “Everyone is a stranger until you get to know them... Winter is coming up, if you don’t get off the streets by then, you could get seriously sick from the cold.” He stood himself back up and held out a hand to him. 

Pete stared at him for a moment then looked back at the noose; the urge to die was still strong. He had been there so many times before; people offered him a hand up then got frustrated when things did not work and dumped him. 

“I’m here for you bud, you can trust me,” Stan said, bringing his attention back to him. 

Pete wiped away his tears with a shaky hand even though it made his face dirtier. More tears streamed down his cheeks. He tossed the noose away and had taken Stan’s hand which he continued to hold as they exited the alleyway. He was a bag of nerves and self-conscious, the stares and whispers of the townsfolk that watched them did not help matters either. 

“Don’t worry about them; they talk about everyone... It’s going to be okay,” Stan whispered and slightly tightened his hold to stop him from going back there. “You’re not going to be alone anymore I’m going to stand by you.” 

Pete attempted to speak, but the words got trapped, his mind was just blown by the amount of compassion this guard showed him. Usually, when Royal Guards patrolled the streets they told him to shift, but this guy was giving him food, shelter and help him get into work. 

They soon arrived at the local cafe to get some stares and baffled looks as Stan supported him on the shoulder. Some frowned and muttered how much the guy stank, some even rushed to payment and stormed out. This time Pete tried to take his advice and not worry about it as he sat down with him. 

“Hey, Stan, see you made a new friend,” a young lady who appeared to be a waitress judging by the white apron over her simple blue dress. She looked about their age, relatively tall, slender build, light-skinned, long brown hair tied up in a neat little bun, heart-shaped face, sweet rosy cheeks and bright sapphire blue eyes. 

“Yeah, Peter is going through a rough patch right now, I want to help him out,” Stan replied then looked back at him. “This is my friend, Lily; she’s new to Corona, she’s from Equis, we met at Monty’s sweet shop.” 

Pete nodded and looked back at her nervously, she seemed nice, but he was still embarrassed by how he looked. “H-Hi.” 

Lily looked at him with a soft, sympathetic expression. “I’m sorry to hear that you are going through such a hard time, Peter... I hope things will get better for you soon. Welcome to the Sunshine and Daises cafe, what would you like to eat?” 

Pete’s mind went blank again, he could not understand why it kept doing that, maybe it was nerves. He was not used to people being nice to him; it was all so overwhelming. He then scolded himself not to start crying again; his heart skipped a beat as his right leg had begun shaking, which often happened when he was anxious. 

“It’s okay... I can come back to you later,” Lily said in an attempt to help calm him, but it did not work. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Stan said in a soft voice as he put a hand over his clenched fist. He guessed by the size of him he had not eaten in a long time; he learnt from his dad that it was best to start small. “They do nice tomato soup, would you like that?” 

Pete bowed his head; he was still ashamed of how messed up he looked and embarrassed for freezing up in front of Lily. “O-Okay.” 

“Alright, tomato soup and water for Pete, quiche and a coffee for me please, Lil,” Stan said. 

Lily nodded as she quickly jotted it down in her notepad then hurried off to the kitchen. 

The pair of them had a good time with their meals, it saddened and warmed Stan’s heart to see Pete so excited over a simple soup bowl. They did not talk much; he figured this was not the time or place to ask how he wound up on the streets or anything about his past. “You might like being in the Royal Guard; we ride horses, help keep people safe, maybe one day we will succeed in finding the lost Princess. Cap is hard, but he’s a good guy really, he’s just tough when he has to be.” 

Pete sighed, he looked disheartened as he glanced at his skinny waist so thin he could feel his rib cage. “I don’t think I will get into the guard... I mean, look at me, I’m so thin and weak, don’t you have to be like big and strong to do that?” 

“Not necessarily... We all come in different sizes and body types, I don’t mean now once you are at a healthy state you can try out,” Stan replied. “You might just surprise yourself.” 

Pete breathed out a heavy sigh; he could not see himself in that iron armour; he was sure Cap would take one look at him and turn him down flat. 


	2. Shelter

Stan still had some time left before he was due back to work; fortunately, he did not live too far away from the castle; he had a small cottage by the high street. The sitting room was a bit messy; not very organised. He had a laundry pile that he had yet to do other bits and bobs scattered around the room. “Sorry about the mess, you can help yourself to anything in the cupboards and get yourself washed up.”

Pete nodded. He was still in shock that he had brought him into his home despite being a total stranger. He could be a murderer for all he knew; he was not worried about him causing any trouble either. He watched as he dashed upstairs then came down with a green T-shirt and black pants.

“It will look baggy on you, but I guess it will do for now,” Stan said as he handed them over to him.

Pete gasped, he could not believe it, this guy was giving him clean clothes? “T- Thank you.”

Stan nodded. “No prob... I’ll be back at ten-ish.”

Pete nodded again, though he felt anxious about being alone in his house. “O- Okay.”

Stan put on a small smile, picked up his shoulder bag and dashed out.

Pete sighed as he looked over the wounds on his arms; they were close to getting infected. He had tried so many ways to deal with the pain, things that were not healthy like alcohol, potions and self harming. He could not remember when was the last time he had washed. He guessed by the body odour it had been too long. He had set up a bath, removed his clothes and got himself in. It felt great washing the grime and dirt from his skin but then for a moment he had frozen up as looking at the water somehow triggered a memory.

* * *

It was late at night, he noticed his dad was missing, he was only small at this time maybe six or seven, he went out to look for him; eventually, he was found walking through water, he had gone quite far.

“Dad!” Peter cried out, then went after him. “Dad!”

He paused and turned, he looked horrified to see him there.

“You need to go home with me… It’s too dark and cold here!” Peter said as he reached out to him.

He had broken into tears, devastated that his little boy had just seen him try to kill himself although he was too young and innocent to understand then. “I’m sorry, Peter… I’m so sorry!”

“Get out of the water and come back home!” Peter pleaded as he tugged his arm, he was scared, his dad was really worrying him, he was surprised when he lifted him and held him close as he got out of the water. “Don’t leave me again!”

“I-I won’t leave you again… I promise,” he said, his voice shaky as he was also crying.

Pete had become overwhelmed with emotion again as he brought his knees up, wrapped his arms over his bare legs and bowed his head, he cried as it eventually had hit him what he was doing in the water, it was one thing he had considered doing himself a few times. He shakily wiped the tears again. His eyes had just healed from earlier then tried taking some deep breaths to calm himself down, shift the negative thoughts from his mind, which was easier said than done. He said he was not going to leave him again, but he did and never came back, for years he waited at by the window for him, from his first day till his last day at the Old Corona orphanage clinging to the hope he would be back home, that dream never came true. He shook himself off and got back to washing. He told himself that he had to move on, let it go, as they say, put the past behind him, he forced himself to focus on washing off the dirt, clear his mind just for a bit of anything to do with his father or the other hardships he had been through. Scrub, scrub, scrub the germs away, once his body was done, he moved onto his hair.

* * *

It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders when he was finally washed. However, the green Corona shirt did look big on him with Stan being triple his size it was comfy, it just felt great having fresh clothing over his now clean body, the cuts on his arms looked better, Lily had just saved them from infection. He had thought of getting some bread, but he was just too exhausted; within minutes of sitting down in the armchair, he had fallen into a deep sleep. He had random flashbacks of times with his dad, mostly was good memories but sometimes were sad after a few hours they had started to play on his mind. He had seen himself as a small boy maybe eight or nine years old lying on a bench outside his small family home, wrapped up in a white blanket, he stared off into space as he rested his head rested on his dad’s lap as he played on a recorder instrument, he was quite good, he looked quite similar to him as an adult, oval-shaped face, brown hair with rectangular fringe, blue eyes, pale with a few freckles.

That was until his mother appeared, she was quite tall, slender, long dark brown hair tied up in a bun, oval-shaped face, light skin, brown eyes. She wore a simple white dress with a blanket draped over her shoulders. “It’s getting a bit late, Nick, past a certain little boy’s bedtime.”

Nick sighed and stopped, he glanced down at their son and gently nudged his shoulder. “Peter.”

Pete yawned and got himself up, he was drained and was just about to drift off anyway. “Night, dad,” he whispered as he gave him a quick hug.

“Night, bud,” Nick said in a soft voice as he walked away.

“Night, mom,” Pete said as he passed by her.

“Night, Peter,” she whispered and patted his head.

Peter returned to the house. He hid behind a curtain to hear what his parents were saying.

Nick tapped his lap as his wife stood and looked back at him; she soon did.

“I am going to make a better life for us someday… Make you proud again,” Nick said.

“You already have,” his mom replied.

Pete cringed at the sound of them kissing. “Yucky.”

“Look at the stars,” his mom whispered.

“Yeah, they are lighting up the sky tonight for you,” Nick said.

Pete heard him kiss her again, then sighed as he hugged her. “Ah, Charlotte, sweet, Charlotte.”

* * *

A small smile appeared on his face. This was one of the few happy memories he had with his family. His mom had died shortly after that night. He shifted a bit as he tried to get more comfortable and another bittersweet memory came to mind.

* * *

Small Pete was sat on the grass near the home, waiting for his dad to return from work, returned earlier than usual, and did not look well. His skin was sweaty and lighter than normal. He put a hand on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes and spoke to him in a soft voice. 

“Don’t you ever stop dreaming, son… You can be anyone you want to be, anyone.” 

Peter smiled back at him. “I want to be like you.” He reached out and stroked his cheek, but his dad did not smile back instead sighed and shook his head.

“Oh, Peter… You really don’t want to do that,” he muttered.

Peter was confused and worried. He was acting strange, he turned and watched as his dad dragged his feet into the house, he dropped his bag on the way. He had followed after him, but he was not where he thought he was so rushed to the other side, he paused and watched through a window. His dad had taken off his chest plate, dropped it on the floor, breathed a heavy sigh and leaned against a wall with his arms stretched out then stood back up and picked a small glass bottle he chugged down the brown liquid then had broken down in tears.

“Dad… Did you have some bad juice again?” Peter asked as he walked in. He kept his distance as he felt anxious being with him in this state.

“N-No… I’m okay… I’ll be fine,” he tried to reassure him despite looking like the opposite of ‘okay.’

“Are you sure?” Peter was not convinced; he was acting strange, not himself.

“I said I’m fine, Peter!”

Peter shrunk and backed away. It was not often he shouted at him; he was unsure what to do. “I-I’m sorry.”

Nick breathed out a heavy sigh. “N-No… It’s my fault… I-I just,” his voice trailed off as he became light-headed.

Peter’s eyes widened slightly. He was getting terrified. “D-Dad? What’s wrong?”

He did not reply. He could not think or speak then all of sudden he collapsed.

“DAD!” Peter screamed and dropped down beside him, he nudged his shoulder but failed to get a response. “Dad!”

* * *

Pete snapped awake and groaned, every time he dreamt of a happier time with his father it was followed by a painful one, he panted as he felt a sharp pain in his chest, it was like he was back there again, he panted as the anxiety overwhelmed him, he was angry with his dad for breaking his promise, but he missed him so much. He missed his mom to; he could barely remember. It looked like he had been asleep longer than he thought as the room turned dark, he jumped when he heard the door open.

“Hey, Pete… Are you okay?” Stan asked as he entered the room then lit a candle.

“Y-Yeah… I just had a bad dream,” Pete mumbled.

Stan sighed and moved closer to him. “Oh… Was it about something in your past?”

Pete did not reply; he did not want to talk about it; his dad was hard enough to think about it, let alone talk about it.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it… I’ve got a spare room that my cousin used to use before he got his own place, you might sleep better in there,” Stan said.

“O-Okay… Thanks,” Pete mumbled as he got himself up, the problem was he could not stay asleep, but there was not much he could do about that, and he did not feel ready to discuss his past with anyone yet. “Night.”

“Good night… Just so you know you can talk to me about anything, I’ll try to help you through it,” Stan said.

Pete kept quiet. He did not know what to say to that; he was grateful for the shelter from the oncoming cold, but he failed to see how he could help him get out of the storm that persistently raged inside him.


End file.
